


Crunchy and Without Jelly (or Chocolate)

by zarabithia



Category: Avengers (Comic), Marvel, Marvel 616
Genre: Cap's Kooky Quartet, Community: merry_marvels, Gen, Gift Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-05
Updated: 2010-05-05
Packaged: 2017-10-14 18:30:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/152196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarabithia/pseuds/zarabithia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Really, what's a day in the life of the Avengers without a little in-fighting and utter misuse of food?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crunchy and Without Jelly (or Chocolate)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dazzledfirestar](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Dazzledfirestar).



> Written for the prompt: "Why is there peanut butter on my shield?"

In many ways, Steve was still learning how to readjust to civilians. There had been generals, during the war, who had seen more than Steve (Steve tried not to think about the fact that those generals were all gone now; at least, he tried not to think about that while he was spending valuable "down" time with the Avengers he was supposed to be leading.) Those generals had warned him that leaving the war would be more difficult, in some ways, than being part of the war.

Steve hadn't really believed them. He'd known that for some people, war was a way of life and battle something to be relished.

But Steve fought, and would always fight, because there was an enemy to be fought, not out of a blood lust. He'd been certain, then, that the difference had really mattered and that coming home would not give him the same sense of displacement it had given so many other former soldiers.

Maybe it wouldn't have, if he'd come home sooner. Maybe it wouldn't have, if Bucky had made it home too.

Maybe, if either of those things had been true, the skill in leading that had seemed so easy and natural during the war would have translated to leading the group of civilians he was currently responsible for.

Steve wasn't convinced, however, that it would have prepared him for what he saw when he walked into the room where the other three Avengers were waiting. Despite his occasional self-doubt over his leadership style, Steve felt entirely justified in his greeting. "Why is there peanut butter on my shield?"

* * *

Rarely did Clint Barton and Steve Rogers ever really agree on anything, but for just this one occasion, Clint had to admit that Cap's question was a reasonable one.

He didn't have to admit it out loud, of course. He did, on the other hand, have to be the first person to have a snappy answer for Cap, because that was the way things worked for their team.

"Well, you left it in the room, Grandpa. If you were gonna get that worked up about your precious shield getting dirty, maybe you should have taken it with you!"

It probably said something - and that something probably wasn't very complimentary - about the way Clint's stomach flipped in a triumphant little cartwheel whenever he managed to make Cap's face twist into that particular brand of a grimace. It was, after all, a very particular grimace reserved just for dealing with Clint. Clint was willing to bet that Hitler didn't instill his own special brand of facial irritation on Cap. Not that Hitler was Clint's personal hero or anything, but there was a certain accomplishment in being able to get under the skin of a fellow who'd stared down pure evil without so much as a blink.

Clint was willing to acknowledge that Pietro was right, and that the feeling of accomplishment wasn't an especially heterosexual feeling, but that, too, wasn't something he was going to acknowledge out loud.

"I'm not 'worked up,' Hawkeye. As leader of the Avengers, I just wondered what happened."

"Yeah, yeah. We all know you're the leader of the Avengers. We don't have to be reminded."

"Most people would forgive me for thinking otherwise."

Clint waved at him dismissively. "If you really must know, we were having ... target practice."

Cap's face twisted again, and he looked for all the world like he wanted to say "Bullshit." Or, Clint considered, possibly a long string of expletives containing the word "fuck."

Personally, one of Clint's lifetime goals was to make Captain America finally lose his shit to the degree that he let loose with a good profanity filled rant. It'd do the old man some good.

* * *

"That doesn't explain," Steve answered, letting out a breath of air that managed to be both a sigh and a barely restrained groan, "how you managed to get peanut butter on arrows you haven't even managed to shoot yet."

Wanda listened to her teammates, with half the patience she generally extended towards them. She was still agitated at Hawkeye, for his behavior earlier in the day.

But she raised one hand to cover the smile that crossed her lips as the question dawned on Hawkeye and he raised his hands to check the arrows remaining in his quiver. Instantly, the smug smile that came with arguing with Captain America disappeared off his face, and the remaining agitation left Wanda entirely.

"I'm afraid the peanut butter on your shield is my fault, Captain America," Wanda confessed.

He looked up, surprised at the confession. Wanda wondered if the surprise was due to her gender or the fact that he wasn't expecting to have his verbal sparring match with Hawkeye interrupted so quickly. "You were playing target practice with peanut butter?"

"Not exactly target practice," Wanda explained.

"The buffoon was bothering my sister and she gave him what he deserved," Pietro interrupted.

"Nice of you to decide to join the conversation, Pietro," Hawkeye huffed.

"You did not appear to require my assistance in digging any deeper holes for yourself, Hawkeye and I needed to finish my lunch. If you had powers, you would understand that they require a good deal more fuel than a mere archer."

"A _mere_ archer?"

"Or, rather, I tried to," Wanda interrupted, and soothingly added, "My aim might not have been as good as Hawkeye's." She gave his arm a little squeeze, a silent apology for both the peanut butter and her brother's words.

"That's because there's nothing mere about me. And anyway, Cap, why are you so surprised? They must not have had feisty women back in the day of the dinosaurs."

* * *

"On the contrary," Steve corrected, letting the dinosaur crack slide in favor of correcting the important part of the question. "We had a good many 'feisty women' during my day. We couldn't have won the war without them."

"Goody. The next time we're in a pinch, Witchie can throw peanut butter at our enemies."

"I don't care for how you speak of my sister, Hawkeye. She is a valuable member of this team."

"I didn't say she wasn't!"

"You implied it."

Steve surveyed his team: one bemused witch, one restless speedster and one cocky archer with his feelings a bit wounded. He hadn't picked them and they were a lot of hard work to deal with.

But they were worth the effort. He was unsure of a lot of things in this new position he found himself in, but that he was certain of.

"Let me tell you what I'd like to imply about you, Pietro - "

Steve laid a hand on Hawkeye's shoulder to interrupt that train of thought. "I'd like to state that we're all equally valuable members of this team. I wouldn't trade any of you."

"Have the Avengers always been this sentimental?" Pietro wondered. "Or is this something special that changed when we three joined the team?"

"Hush, Pietro. I think it's sweet. I am sorry about your shield, Steve."

Hawkeye shrugged off the hand, but Steve felt him relax slightly before he did so. As far as wins with Hawkeye went, that had to count as one, in Captain America's book. "On the other hand, I'd say it's clear that we need to practice on our teamwork skills some more."

"Aw, Cap, no. Please tell us you aren't going to make us do anymore of that role play crap. You're the only guy I've ever met who could make role play boring, by the way."

Steve blinked, and let that be one of the times he pretended not to know what Hawkeye was talking about. "I was thinking more along the lines of mock battle practice. Good old-fashioned sparring, in other words."

"You might want to clean your arrows off first."

"Yeah, fuck you too, Pietro."

"Play nice, Hawkeye," Steve said, and if he'd managed not to sigh, it might have sounded better.

"Yeah, yeah. Hey, Cap, can we bring the peanut butter?" Steve had spent most of the war hanging around teenage boys, and he could readily read the "I'm sure I can show Pietro just how good my aim really is" look Hawkeye was giving Quicksilver.

Steve stifled another sigh. "As long as you don't get anymore on my shield."


End file.
